


alma and angel

by turning_saints



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turning_saints/pseuds/turning_saints
Summary: original worktell me if you want a sequel/new chapter





	alma and angel

“I’m closing in, I’m almost there,” I said into my radio, and I stepped farther down on the gas pedal of my police car. I rolled up the windows primarily to sheild myself from any gunshots that might be coming my way (it wouldn’t be the first time), and secondly to block out the noise from the obnoxious siren above my head.  
“Go get her, Wilkins.” The voice of my superior officer, Mark, reassured me, and I pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I shot past the cars in the right lane, until I was directly behind my target, a black SUV that contained my current assignment, a nationally charged criminal that goes by the name Angel Row, and over two million dollars in cash.  
I had been assigned the job of hunting down Angel over 18 months ago, and it had originally taken a ton of research and far too many interviews, but I eventually found direct contacts to her, and after a few run ins, all of which ending in her getting away and me getting yelled at, I reached this point.  
Some of my sources tipped me off that she was planning a bank robbery for today, and sure enough, she was there. This fact was weird news to me, because Angel usually goes for bigger and better crimes than that, but I guess she was feeling nostalgic.  
I was gaining on her, and I watched as she tried to speed up, but due to all the cars on the highway, there was nowhere for her to go. I got into the right lane and came up beside her, planning on forcing her into the side lane so that she could stop the car. I looked through her passenger seat window and Angel and I locked eyes. I watched as the mischievous and slightly maniacal grin I knew so well spread across her face, and before I could do anything she veered into the right lane.  
Her huge SUV slammed into the side of my small police car. We both went skidding into the right lane, and screeched to a stop.  
My head felt fuzzy, and every blink of my eyes got slower. The back of my neck hurt.  
And then it all came back to me, the car, the chase, the criminal. Angel Row.  
I looked around, and after a brief self assessment, I figured I wasn’t hurt so, while trying to orient my eyes with my brain, I kicked the car door open, cringing at the sound of crunching metal. I tumbled out of the car and woozily got to my feet.  
I heard the clumping of shoes behind me and I turned around to see Angel in a black hoodie, skin tight black jeans, and black military style boots, the look completed by her black and gold hoop earrings.  
She loosely held a small gun at her side. That’s new, I thought. I haven’t ever seen her carry it around before. It’s usually her weirdly huge henchmen carrying the gun.  
“Look, if it isn’t my favorite person.” Her weaponry may have changed, but her sarcasm sure as hell hasn’t.  
“Angel Row, you are being arrested.” I rush out, straightening up and trying to look like I’m not worried my brains will fall out my ears.  
“Oh, shut up. You’ve tried that before, remember?” I’ve tried to arrest her no less than seven times, a fact that she loves to hold over me.  
“This time I won’t fail, Angel.” I reach for my radio, and right before I can push down on the button to send for backup, she holds her gun up, and points it at my face. I take my hand away from the radio, and she visibly relaxes. The same can not be said for me, however, because I still have a freaking gun pointed at my face.  
“Sorry, sorry,” I mutter, because surprisingly I do not want to get shot today.  
“So here’s what’s gonna happen,” Angel snaps the piece of gum in her mouth, obviously feigning boredom, “You’re gonna turn around, walk two blocks down the street, and get a nice Uber car back to the police station, where you tell them that you faced me again, and were too much of a chicken to actually fight me. Then, you’re gonna resign from my assignment, because we both know you can’t handle me.”  
“Like hell I am,” I said, and defiantly straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. “I’ve worked too hard on this case. Also, who said I couldn’t handle you? You’re a petite ninety pound idiot who looks like she just stepped off of the set of a My Chemical Romance music video. And not even one of the good ones. A shitty My Chemical Romance music video.”  
Angel laughed, and that’s the first time I felt genuinely afraid.  
“And you’re just a pretend cop, who thinks she can bring herself to arrest me.”  
I’d had enough of this. “Alright, come here,” I said, and pulled my handcuffs from my belt, reaching for her wrists.  
She took a step forward, and for a minute I thought she was going to come quietly, and then she presses the cold metal of her gun to my forehead.  
I laughed, and I felt the tension ease from my body. There’s no way she’d shoot me. “Yeah, that’s hilarious.” I said.  
“What is?”  
“You’d never be able to actually shoot me.”  
Angel made eye contact with me, and without breaking it, she slowly lowered her gun, and stepped into me so her lips were right by my ear.  
“Try me,” She whispered, and shot me right in the calf. 

I don’t exactly remember what happened next, but after a lot of doctors, and yelling, and several hours in the hospital, I woke up in an alarmingly white room, with a nurse standing by my bedside. “Hi honey, everything’s gonna be okay. Could you just tell me what your name is?” Her voice was soothing, and I assumed she had had a lot of panicked patients over the years.  
“It’s Alma Wilkins.”  
“Alright, that’s great, sweetie. Well, Alma, I have some good news for you, hon. The bullet didn’t lodge itself in your calf, it actually just grazed the outside. You could have been in a lot worse trouble than you are now. You’re so lucky!” She finished with an exclamation of how lucky I was that I thought would be more appropriate if I had won the lottery. “When can I go home?”  
“Actually, we can get ya all bundled up to go in about thirty minutes, if you promise to come back the day after tomorrow to check for infections, you poor lamb.” She now assumed an expression of pity that I thought was slightly more appropriate.  
“Okay.”  
Thirty minutes later, I was in a taxi on the way to my small apartment that I shared with my roommate, Ray. Given the circumstances, I was not excited to see her.  
The minute I put my bag down at the door, I went straight to my room, ignoring Ray’s greeting. “Hey, Alma.”  
I sat down on my bed and put my head in my hands.  
“How are you?” Ray was at my doorway, looking concerned.  
“Go away.”  
“How was your day?”  
“YOU FUCKING SHOT ME, RAY. HOW DO YOU THINK MY DAY WAS?”  
Oh, for all the confused readers out there, I forgot to mention one teensey little detail. During all my research into Angel Row’s case, I found some concerning stuff. Most of which being the fact that Angel Row’s true identity was Ray Adams, my roommate and best friend since high school.  
For the past 18 months I have purposefully been going on tangents, trying to lead everyone away from her, and trying to convince the police that I am being successful anyway.  
Because I couldn’t just give her over to the police, she’s my best friend. And that brings me back to the topic at hand. Best friends don’t shoot each other, generally speaking.  
“I’m sorry, Al! What was I supposed to do? Let you arrest me? Then we’d both be in big trouble! Seriously! There was no other way!”  
“I can think of multitudes of other ways Ray, about ninety nine percent of which don’t involve you shooting me.” I’m not yelling anymore, mostly because I don’t have the energy to.  
“Well, I took the one percent.” She seemed totally confident in her answer, as if just casually shooting your best friend was a perfectly normal thing to do.  
I sighed. This was going to be one difficult case.


End file.
